Anarchy Baby
by Pouceline de Gresiel
Summary: Arthur, a guitar genius punk, ditches his damn boyfriend Francis and his damn band Bad Touch Four and leaves London for San Francisco for a while. There is one thing the dude didn't expect. There is a *** American brat that dares pissing him off while he's trying getting himself drunk. And of course he can't resist him. Rated M for very tough language, alcohol, yaoi, Punk!UK X US.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi! I'm a French girl having fun (pissing off everyone :P) writing fictions in English (what a strange idea, lol) so if there is any mistake that blocks or hurts you, you PM me, okay? ;)  
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**Special warning guys, this is about Punk!UK. That damn fiction contains very tough language, and can be really spicy/virulent, especially about France in this first chapter (but I don't care, I'm French, uh? 8D), and maybe a little about America in the next chapter. But ANYWAY, this is just a fiction, I don't really think all those bad things for real! This is Punk!UK, right? Peace and love my friends^^ Hope nobody would get offended… If you really feel offended, feel free to tell me, and I'll see if I can delete some stuff.  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!**

**Enjoy^^ Oï!**

* * *

**Anarchy Baby**

**Arthur, a guitar genius punk, ditches his damn boyfriend Francis and his damn band Bad Touch Four and leaves London for San Francisco for a while. There is one thing the dude didn't expect. There is a *** American brat that dares pissing him off while he's trying getting himself drunk. And of course he can't resist him. Rated M for very tough language, alcohol, yaoi, Punk!UK X US.**

* * *

Arthur was dragging his big shoes in the street, not really paying attention to his way and what time it was. Actually, he was in London, in the evening, probably nine or ten o' clock. Or maybe eleven.

His mind was quite blurred by alcohol and people were staring at him. But he didn't care. His head was filled with dark thoughts no one could understand in that world with no future for him. Fuck the world. He wanted to write it in red letters on every wall to express the rage roaring in his heart. A rage for nothing and everything he probably couldn't explain himself.

However. He didn't want to think anymore.

He managed to open the building door and climb the stairs and broke into the apartment without losing his time knocking.

Anyway the door was unlocked and Francis was standing in front of him.

"Where were you?"

Arthur didn't want to answer. Why was that guy allowed to ask him such questions? Can't he shut up his damn frog mouth? Who does he think he is, with his stupid long blond hair and looking at him with such blue eyes? If that guy wasn't spending his time fucking, and with that amount of alcohol in his veins, Arthur could have mistaken him for the upper sister of the school he was used to attend when he was a brat. At that thought, the rage in his heart grew a little more.

"No one has seen you for two days. Where were you?"

Those eyes. Damn it. Why can't he punch his bloody face? Arthur wondered. Why his arm just didn't want to do it? Just do it?

"Nowhere. Arthur replied.

- Liar."

Arthur swore in silence. Why the fuck was he suddenly acting intelligent now? What did he take? Was he sick?

"Mind your own business. Arthur gritted his teeth.

- What my boyfriend and guitarist of our band is doing is my business. I'm concerned about you, Arthur. We're all concerned. Why at least didn't you come for rehearsing? We need you. Our band, Arthur. Our future. What are you doing? _Chéri_, what's going on?"

Arthur was looking at something invisible on the floor, not knowing what was driving him sick the most. What the Frenchman was saying or just the Frenchman. Wasn't life made to do what you want and fuck everyone? Arthur wanted to destroy everything with his boots but he had no motivation enough to use violence.

"Fuck you. Arthur groaned. Fuck the band. I don't give a shit."

He ignored superbly Francis' shocked face.

"And besides, that band sucks. You all damn suck. I'm out."

The Frenchman's eyes widened so much that he really looked like a frog.

Of course he was right. Him, the great Arthur Kirkland, the lead guitar of Bad Touch Four, was simply a genius, a monument. All the others were just playing shit.

No, no one could understand his feelings.

"You- you're… out?

- Masturbation has not destroyed your ears yet."

Francis ignored the joke.

"I am. I'm leaving the band."

Francis frowned in disbelief and shook his head in protestation, which exasperated Arthur even more.

Why he was with that guy, he didn't remember. What a guitar genius was doing with such an annoying guy? Why the hell he was always asking for more than just sex?

"And I leave you".

Francis stared at him in astonishment.

"You're leaving me? After all those years spent together?"

Arthur didn't answer. All he wanted was to go away and disappear.

"After all what we went through together, you're leaving me?"

Arthur had mistaken. Actually Francis was as stupid as usual. The Frenchman got more annoying that Arthur could have think possible, starting to snivel like a baby, whining with the ugliest accent of the universe and complaining in a language that nobody in the world fucking understand.

"_Pourquoi? Arthur, mon amour_, wy you leev mee? I don't want! Stay wiz mee! Watt weel I bee weezâwt you? _Oh, Arthur, mon Arthur_, don't leev mee alône! Pleeeez…"

Francis grabbed him by his arms.

"_Ne me laisse pas_… I still love you, _tu sais_.

- I don't need your stupid _shuh tem-_

- _Je t'aime_. Francis sighed in a last tentative to correct Arthur's pronunciation.

- Whatever. It won't change anything. I don't need you anymore."

He abruptly pushed his ex-boyfriend away, shot him a glare full of hatred and headed to the door.

He would have expected to kill him with his words but, instead of keeping on crying, Francis wiped his tears with his ridiculous pink handkerchief and silence invaded the room.

"I must be strong now. He slowly said with a low voice. To forget our love. This is not the end of the world. _La vie continue_. I loved a guy named Arthur, but it seems this guy is long time gone."

Francis turned his back to Arthur. At least his butt was nice, Arthur couldn't help but think.

"You can go if you want so."

The Frenchman didn't turn his head.

Arthur thought about pinching his butt but eventually went out and slammed the door. A few neighbors had stepped out of their homes and were shooting him angry looks but Arthur didn't even gave them a glance. He laughed and danced in the stairs. Now he was free, free, FREE! He would never be asked for doing this or that anymore. Living by oneself, the unique way to happiness! By then, he had nowhere to sleep, but he didn't fucking care. He sat on the floor and lit up a more or less legal cigarette to celebrate this day.

Arthur woke up in a bed that was not his. He blinked and cursed the sunlight through the curtains or his hangover or both.

How much time had passed since he ditched Francis? One day? One week? One month? However.

Seeing how the room was clean, he guessed he was probably in a hotel room. He was perfectly alone.

Suddenly he remembered what awoke him a few seconds ago and he stood up.

He opened the door and found two guys waiting in the corridor. One was too tanned for a Brit, with brown hair and green eyes, and the other was albino type, white hair and red eyes. Both had weird expressions on their faces.

"Hi, dude. Can we speak? The brunette asked.

- You can. Arthur replied, making them understand they could stay speaking in the door frame by blocking the entrance with his body.

- Dude, you should get dressed." The albino said, pointing at the only cloth Arthur had on him –his Union Jack boxer shorts.

Arthur swore when he acknowledged it and eventually let them enter.

They sat on the two chairs in front of the bed and stared at him while he was getting dressed.

That was only when he was finished and sat on the bed that he recognized Antonio and Gilbert, respectively the bass and the singer-second guitar of the band.

Antonio, Spanish and 25 years old, was already married with a Belgian chick Arthur had forgotten the name, and had two kids he had tattooed the names on his arms –Lovino and Feliciano. Gilbert was also tattooed –mostly with incomprehensible gothic symbols- but had no wife –if we don't mention the Romanian- Bulgarian- Hungarian- whatever!- chick that cheated on him with another German like him or maybe Austrian and dumped him six months ago, stuff he would never go through- and no kids, thanks hell, but always claiming he was awesome and would get his bitch back someday. Anyway he was only 20 so he could still have dreams. Arthur didn't really like tattoos. He preferred piercings. Only Francis had neither tattoos nor piercings, because he had claimed "his natural beauty mustn't be altered". But Arthur didn't want to think about Francis.

"Man! You've screwed up everything! Gilbert started.

- And breaking up with Francis like that, after six years together, that was unthinkable! The _niños_ are all worked up! Antonio cried. _Que se pasa, amigo ?_

- If it was just about Francis, it would be okay, but quitting the band! Stop acting like an loser and come back! We've got a new awesome album on the market and an awesome tour to prepare!

- Please, Arthur! Stay! Do it for the _niños_ at least!"

But Arthur didn't listen to their begging. _Niños_ or not _niños_, there was no question.

"I need a break. Arthur eventually said and blamed himself for this was not what he wanted exactly.

- So this doesn't mean you're leaving us forever! Antonio sighed with relief.

- A break until when?

- I don't know.

- I see… Antonio said.

- Hope it won't last too long. We've got a tour to make. Gilbert warned. I can insist to postpone the dates but not too much."

Eventually alone once again, he lay back on the bed and smiled to the ceiling. Peaceful life as he had always dreamed of.

But after a few minutes –hours? Days?-, Arthur started to feel sick. The ceiling was too white. Life was too peaceful now. Of course he missed his guitar, but there was something he was missing more than his guitar. When was the last time he had sex?

A feeling of deep frustration settled up into his mind and after other few hours of resistance, he surrendered because the thought of having sex just didn't want to get out.

His instincts guided him from his hotel room to the apartment he was used to share with Francis. He was not proud of what he was doing but his hunger was greater than his pride at this moment.

Francis slightly opened the door, allowing Arthur to barely see him and frowned.

"Good morning! Arthur smiled. Francis looked at his watch.

- Good morning, you. It's 8 in the evening in case you didn't notice.

- I have no watch. Arthur shrugged. Francis sighed with exasperation.

- What do you want? He asked abruptly.

- Oh, Arthur smirked, just to give you what I know you like… He murmured with a husky voice and approached his hand to press his thigh. Francis pushed his hand away like if it had burned him.

- No.

- Hey, man, that's just sex! Arthur said, not paying attention to how loud his voice was. You like it, okay?

- Arthur, no. Francis maintained.

- Wait, I ask for sex and you say NO?!

- Shhh, please! He ordered him and quickly gave an anxious look at something behind him.

- Hey! Arthur jumped to try to see what was behind him. You've brought a friend? Francis sighed and let a boy -the extra-shy type with glasses- appear next to him and put a protective arm around his shoulders.

- This is Matthieu.

- Cool! Long time no threesome stuff! You got to like it, Matthew!

- _Qui est-ce?_ The boy asked to Francis.

- _Un crétin. Ne fais pas attention à lui_. He answered in French, to Arthur's great displeasure.

- Why the fuck he's speaking French?!

- Because he's Quebecker. French is his native language.

- Oh.

- Yes, oh.

- Well, we'll have fun anyway, won't we?

- Arthur. You didn't understand.

- I beg your pardon?

- He's my new boyfriend.

- What's wrong with that?

- I love him. And he loves me. And we've chosen a clean relationship, in the name of love. Can't you understand that, _oui ou merde?!_

- Hey, calm down, frog!

- YOU calm down, Arthur. Look, everyone is watching."

And he was true. All the neighbors were watching from their door frames with widened eyes. This evening again, there was a show that mustn't be missed.

"I-I don't fucking care!"

Arthur turned all red with anger. Why didn't he shut up and say yes like any guy or chick from Slutland should normally do? It was all Francis' fault after all.

"_Franchement, Arthur. _You're ridiculous. Stop it. _C'est fini_. Please do never come bother us again."

Francis' face was as impassible as a piece of marble. Arthur stared at him in the eye for a few seconds and unwillingly abandoned the battle with a sigh of rage.

He barely glared at the neighbors and they immediately locked their doors like if they were afraid he would attack them.

He went out of the building and kicked a bin. He liked the sound it made as it hit the ground but all the bins of the world wouldn't be enough to cover the cries of anger in his head. He bought a bottle of white rum, went back to his hotel room and drank it all in a few minutes.

As he started to feel the effects, he lay back on the bed and lost himself in a dreamless sleep.

The following morning, he woke up in the afternoon, and while he was trying to heal his hangover in the bathroom, an idea showed up in his head.

He needed to go. Go somewhere far from London.

Going in the country wouldn't be enough. France was out of question. Anyway, even Europe was too close. So, where?

"America." Arthur's thought came out of his mouth by itself.

America. Why not? He shrugged. He had enough money to spend at least a week in the United States, no matter where. Oh, by the way, where?

"New York? He asked. - Too busy. He answered to himself. - Chicago? - We're in October, man. Do you want your balls become ice? - Seattle? He tried. - Wow, going so far to feel like home! -So, where? Oklahoma? - And be a poor lonesome cowboy? – Hey, why not California? Good weather all year, very far from London, nice!"

Arthur agreed with the other Arthur smiling in the mirror of the bathroom in front of him and chose to take a plane ticket for San Francisco. He'll have at least one moment of peace without anyone pissing him off. How nice!

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**AN: I've tried my best to write Francis' complaining in English with French accent (as the person who dubs France in the English version of the anime is not French (I am SURE. Because in the episode of Busby's chair he says "quel connard" (what a cretin) and pronounces the final d that is a silent letter, and the accent he's speaking with is so strange that even me, a French, understands very badly LOL. When we're speaking English with deep French accent to have fun, this does not sound the same (but when we do this, no one but another French can understand lol). But at least he succeeded with the rrrr and some little stuff. But still, it really disappointed me! DX ) the best would have been having me in front of you speaking but _un_fortunately this is not possible hehe), but if you really didn't get what the fuck he said, here is the translation: "_Why you leave me? Stay with me! What will I be without you? Don't leave me alone! Please…"_ See, I had a lot of fun writing like that!^^**

**And translations from the French: (I suppose you know what _chéri, mon amour, pourquoi_ and _je t'aime_ means… _Oui?_ If you have questions don't hesitate to PM me, of course ;) )**

_**Ne me laisse pas**_**: Don't leave me – **_**Tu sais**_**: You know – **_**La vie continue**_**: Life keeps going on – **_**Qui est-ce ?**_**: Who is he/she? – **_**Un **__**crétin, ne fais pas attention à lui: **_**An idiot, don't pay attention to him – **_**Oui ou merde ?!**_**: litt. ****Yes or shit ?! (actually this is an aggressive expression that leaves no choice to the other person. Arthur understands, or **_**merde**_** if he doesn't. I don't know if you understand what I am trying to say… It doesn't matter, **_**oui?**_** ^^ (see, in this case, there is still no choice but this is way less aggressive :) )) – **_**Franchement**_**: Frankly – **_**C'est fini**_**: It's finished/it's the end.**

**I'm in love with reviews ! 8D**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Just a few words and I leave you alone: this chapter contains a flashback containing FrXUK. That is all. No more words. If you're a USXUK purist and totally hate FrXUK, I don't ask you to like it. But do not worry. This is the last time there is FrXUK in that fic.**

**Enjoy it, or hate it. ;)**

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Even though Arthur didn't have a watch, he didn't arrive late for his flight. But his mood didn't turn better.

He passed through the security check and some horrible high pitched sound resonated in his ears and red lights lit up everywhere. It was the signal for the security to rush him and check if he had not hidden something highly dangerous into his pants or under his t-shirt.

"You can pass, sir. It must be because of all the piercings of yours, sir." The security guard, a young and blond woman apologized.

Arthur liked men more than women but he had to admit the gal was somehow pretty in her uniforms.

"We can verify it together over there if you agree. He pointed at the folding screen in the back of the room with a grin on his face.

- It won't be necessary, sir. She smiled and took a look at his boarding ticket. You have to answer to all these questions before your flight." She handed him a sheet.

Arthur took it and burst out laughing.

"'_Are you totally insane?'_ He quoted. Casual, sober or freestyle?

The woman hardly refrained from laughing.

- I advice you not to answer 'yes' to any of these questions. Be careful, sir. They haven't got as much humor as you. The gate is this way."

The flight was fucking long. Thirteen hours without cigarette and next to a family with four kids, all obese, parents and kids. And they didn't stop eating. Arthur almost felt sick looking at all that food diving into their throats, that is why he spent all the flight with an eye mask stuck on his face and ear plugs deep in his ears. Which resulted in falling asleep and being awakened by the steward because the plane had landed and he was the only passenger left.

He left the airport disoriented because of jet lag. At least his luggage had not been lost or destroyed, and he had not been selected for the additional examinations. Even with his piercing and his uncommon hair color, he didn't look like a terrorist enough. Actually he thought this was quite surprising.

He spent the rest of the day finding a hotel to leave his luggage and walking in the streets aimlessly. When the evening came, he felt fed up and tired. Why the heck that town is so craggy? And that was when he found what he was looking for.

A drink.

He made his way to the counter and sat on the stool. The bar was quite old fashioned, with a thousand of license plates and neon orange palm trees by way of decoration. And most of the consumers wore a big cowboy hat on their heads for some strange reason because it couldn't rain in a room that actually had a ceiling.

"One whiskey please. He asked the bartender, who was also wearing a hat.

- ID please.

Arthur stared at the bartender with big eyes.

- I-I beg your pardon, sir?

- Your ID please.

Arthur burst out but the bartender was not laughing. That was why Arthur hurried to show him his passport. The man took it and looked at it carefully.

- Good."

He handed him his passport back and served him a glass of whiskey. Arthur shrugged and drank. He missed whiskey he was used to have in the UK, but that alcoholic would be fine for his needs.

He ordered a second one and it was when he put the glass on his lip that someone dared disturbing him.

"Hey! Buddy!"

Arthur turned his head to his right.

It was a brat, not looking older than eighteen, with blond short hair, glasses on light blue eyes reflecting the hotheadedness of youth, and a welcoming smile. Too welcoming. There was something exaggerated in that guy.

"It seems you can take your drink!"

Arthur said nothing and his mind returned to his glass.

"Hey!"

Him again! Arthur shot him an angry look that seemed to have no effect on the young American.

"Nice color! That's amazing!"

He was speaking about Arthur's hair color: a deep blue, Francis' favorite color. Why the hell did he forget to dye his hair red?

"What is your name, buddy? I've never seen you 'round.

- Arthur. And what is your name, kid? Arthur asked, not hesitating to act unpleasant to scare the "kid".

- Alfred! He smiled widely.

- Well, _Alfred_. Isn't it time to go to bed? Your mommy must be waiting."

But instead of scaring him, it made him laugh and Arthur regretted it. His laughter was so loud that Arthur looked all around him to apology for the boy, but actually no one was paying attention to them.

"You're funny. He said when he was finished, to Arthur's great relief. Where are you from? You're not from California.

- I'm from London, in England.

- London! Alfred widened his eyes and fidgeted on his stool like a child waiting for his Christmas presents. Do you know my friend Tom?

Arthur almost dropped his glass. And looked at him with his mouth fallen open.

- N-No!

- Really? The boy looked disappointed, and Arthur admitted that was kind of moving.

- England, you say? Aw, man! That must be long by car!

It was Arthur's turn to let his hilarity explode.

- Hey, buddy! What is so funny? He asked, not seeming to have any idea about it.

- Nothing, nothing! Forget it." Arthur managed to say, biting his lip not to keep on laughing. And he took advantage of Alfred's lack of words to finish his glass and to order a third one.

He felt Alfred's gaze on him as he finished the new glass.

"Buddy!

- What is it, _kid?_

- What are you drinking?

Arthur handed him his glass.

- Whiskey. Do you want some? He smirked.

- I'm not allowed.

Arthur giggled in surprise.

- Come on, boy. Mommy doesn't allow you? Poor thing…

- Law. Does not allow me.

Arthur stopped in his fourth glass.

- Not joking? He laughed. Alcohol started to have its effects.

- What, joking? I'm nineteen, buddy! I must not drink alcohol.

Arthur finished his glass pensively.

- Oh. Right. Poor you." He said while thinking about his very first drink. He was 11 then.

Alfred kept on talking and Arthur kept on drinking glasses one after another, until he found himself revealing he was just getting out of a split to that brat Alfred that was a total stranger.

"Oh no! It must be terrible for you!

- Oh, please, no! Good riddance! I was fed up! I needed it, I say!

- How was she?

Arthur eventually chose to not tell him he was gay. Some people just can't stand it.

- She was… French.

Alfred widened his eyes.

- French?

- That's how we call people from France. You can also call them fucking slobbery sluts that pisses off everyone and who have only two neurons. One for food and one for sex. They worth nothing but that! He laughed coarsely.

- But- you can't'! Alfred looked taken aback and sorry at the same time. Don't you are still into war?

Arthur almost choked on his drink.

- Hey, kid! You're funny. He giggled.

- It must be tough to be under bombs all day since Big Bang!

- Hell, yeah. Arthur smirked with amusement. Roquefort bombs are terrible. I even got hit by one yesterday. And I'm afraid those bacteria are highly contagious.

Alfred looked at him with horror painted on his face and slightly moved away, which made Arthur laugh.

- S-Scary! Will you die from that?

- I'm in the way to complete disinfection. He rose his glass while hardly refraining from laughing.

Making fun of that poor kid was cruel but he was having so much fun.

- Was she bad? Alfred asked.

- Nasty and idiot, with crappy accent. You can't understand a damn thing! And she was so hairy that you can't see a damn thing! Alfred laughed again. I wish I had never started anything with her. I think I've never loved her."

By the moment Arthur pronounced these words, his mind suddenly got disconnected from the reality.

* * *

He was not in the Californian bar. He was in England, in a schoolyard.

Arthur had not had what people call a normal childhood. His mother left him to his grandmother when he was four. It was then the last time he saw her. Maybe she left him for a guy, or many guys. Maybe guys such as his father. He had never known his father, but he was kind of happy about that for that guy was probably a loser.

Very early, teachers found out he was special. A gifted child.

He was like four and a half when he learned how to read, all by himself. That was why they made him skipping a class, from year 1 to year 2 in primary school. As he was always finishing the exercises before all the other children, the teacher always allowed him to go outside in the schoolyard before the end of class.

That was how he met him for the first time.

A tall height-year-old blond boy curled up against a wall, -probably because he was punished, with something in his blue eyes Arthur had never seen before with anyone. This boy looked weird and strange, like if he was a wild animal put in an ecosystem that was not his.

Two teachers were passing by and Arthur followed their conversation.

"I wonder what we can do with Francis. One of the two women told the other. I've been in Miss Smith's class to help once. He doesn't listen to her and refuses to speak English and to do his work in class.

- I understand this boy is a particular case, Mrs. White. The other teacher, a fifty-five-year-old woman Arthur recognized as the director of the school, answered. However, he is not a bad boy. He will manage his way out. The poor boy had been into terrible things."

Arthur looked at the blond boy, and indeed, the way he was looking up at the teachers and immediately losing interest of the conversation proved that he couldn't understand a word.

"He had a fight with another boy of the class and he injured him! The younger teacher protested. That boy brings trouble in the school. Parents will start to complain if we don't react.

- Mrs. White. The older teacher smiled maternally to her colleague. I have 35 years of career behind me, and my experience tells me that this little Pete is not a really kind little boy. He spends his time trip up children that are not part of his group and mocking everyone, including teachers. Usually, no one dares protesting. Francis did it, and it serves Pete right.

Mrs. White sighed to show her boss she didn't agree but would work with it anyway.

- Francis will need time. He's well better here than in France. He will understand it one day. The director told her. Oh, Arthur! She exclaimed, which made Arthur jump for he was busy staring at Francis with curiosity. Excuse me! You are so small that I didn't see you! Work well!"

She smiled to Arthur with affection and she went away with Mrs. White.

Arthur had heard about him, for everybody was speaking about him with a mix of admiration and fear. But Arthur had neither admiration nor fear for him, even if he was in year 4. But he put up with keeping on staring at the French boy that obviously didn't notice he was spied.

A few days after that day, he found his teacher speaking with his grandmother. They were speaking about him, and how his teacher didn't know what to do with him because his capacities were way too high for the level of the class. They couldn't keep him in the school, for he would probably have to skip another class and maybe another third one, and teachers affirmed that class skippers often suffer a lot for the other children often make their life hell.

That was how Arthur had been placed in a "special boarding school" for "special children" ruled by nuns.

Arthur didn't like that school. The walls were grey and sadder than the English sky. And the upper sister was drier than the Gobi desert. She always had her strap in her hand and never hesitated to use it when she noticed one of the boys had not kept his two hands upon his sheets while sleeping.

He was thirteen when he begged his grandmother to let him attend a normal college and she accepted.

It was with relief that he got accepted in a "normal" college.

All the other students were sixteen or seventeen and were staring at him like if he was E.T., but Arthur learned quickly not to pay attention to them. If he was in this college, it was to work. He didn't care if people were kind or not.

That was what he thought before he met him again.

It was in the school library. Arthur was working when feminine chuckles made him lose concentration. A sixteen-year-old Francis had shown up in the library with a bunch of three girls laughing like a group of hens around him.

Arthur stopped working and stared at him. He stared at his blond angelic long locks. He stared at his eyes filled with this little thing he couldn't explain. He stared at his body. He stared at his bottom. And that was when he learned it. Arthur liked boys.

Francis' sudden arrival resulted in sighs of protestation from the other hardworking pupils, and the librarian felt as her duty to make silence reign on this studious space. She commanded him to leave, he answered a 'yes, madam' in perfect English and left with the girls. Arthur was pretty sure that behind her big glasses, the librarian was blushing.

At the beginning, it was hard to Arthur to accept that he was gay. Fortunately, Francis was not in his class for his first year in college. But when he discovered that they were in the same class for their final year one year after, Arthur's heart almost exploded.

He tried hard not to look at him in class. But the temptation was stronger than his will to work. He was so beautiful, sat on his chair and listening to the teacher with his big troubling blue eyes while chewing his pen in a way that made Arthur feel ashamed of his thoughts.

Each morning, he was used to say hello to all his friends by shaking the boys' hands and kissing the girls on their cheeks. As in this college it was forbidden to stand next to another person within a radius of 1.5 meters, Francis got told off many times but, as he couldn't change his habits, the personal of the college gave up and let him say hello as he wanted and kiss who he wanted. Francis had a bunch of friends, and a bunch of girls falling for him. The prostrate boy in the schoolyard had become an impertinent and attractive creature loved by everyone. He was too popular. Arthur couldn't have a chance to be his friend. And chances of any love story between them were even thinner. Francis just couldn't be gay.

That is why Arthur tried to forget his love. By playing the guitar.

Like he was able to do with everything, he learned how to play on his own and very quickly. Every time he had no class and that the music premises were free, he came and play, alone.

What he would have never imagined is that someone was listening.

One day, when he was leaving the music premises, something big and strong with blond hair hit him.

When he realized Francis was twenty centimeters close to him and that his hands were on his shoulders, Arthur thought he would faint. But he didn't. And tried his best not to avoid his eyes, praying that he would not notice he was blushing.

"Dude! You play like a God! I hire you! Now!"

It took quite a long time to Arthur to understand what he was saying.

"Come on, don't be shy! With you, we'll become the Gods of Rock n' Roll!"

That was how Arthur became the lead guitar of the band, that was called 'The Bad Touch' at the beginning when there were only Francis –playing the drums-, Antonio –the bass- and himself, and much later became 'Bad Touch Four' when they met Gilbert –the present singer-, before the band met a national –and by then European- success.

Arthur and Francis got their college diploma, and kept on playing music and worked a little at the same time to have some money for the band couldn't pay at those times.

During all the following months after Francis hired him, they learned about each other. Arthur told him about his mom, his grandmother and the upper sister; and Francis told Arthur about his father –who was beating his mom and who one day came down on him by burning him with a cigarette-, his mother –who chose to leave France with him in secret and to hide in England so his father never found them-, and English people –who have been kind and patient with him-.

Arthur never dared telling him about his crush.

That was on one night, after a concert they had given that the improbable thing happened.

Antonio had left them for his Belgian girlfriend, they were alone, they were tidying up the equipment, it was raining outside, and the circuit fused.

Arthur ran to the circuit breaker but he felt Francis hand on his arm and his breath in his ear.

"_Non…_" He whispered.

And Arthur felt Francis' lips on his, giving him his first kiss.

At first, Arthur felt uncomfortable, ashamed of not knowing what to do with his tongue. But Francis encouraged him with his. He was sweet, patient, and… skillful. And he put his hand under Arthur's t-shirt and caressed him, which made Arthur shiver. He was even shakier when Francis gently undid his pants. In their nakedness, Francis reassured him. He told him sweet words to make him forget all his fears.

It was Arthur's first time, and he was sixteen.

After that, one year passed, the marriage of Antonio, another year, the _niños_' birth, another year, and so on, up to not really long ago, horrible words getting out of Arthur's mouth, his break with the band, the severe look in Francis' eyes making him understand he was 23 and that it was over.

* * *

Arthur was not in London. He was in San Francisco.

Forgetting Alfred's presence, he let his glass slide and drop on the floor and he collapsed on the counter, crying like he had not cried for years.

"Hey! Buddy! Buddy! What's wrong? Alfred's panicked voice was asking.

_- C'est- c'est finiiii!_" Arthur whined between his sobs.

- What?

- I don't give a shit! He suddenly thumped on the counter. I DON'T GIVE A SHIT! I DON'T FUCKING CARE! I-I-I DON'T… I don't love him…

- Sir, that man is done. The bartender told Alfred.

- Arthur! Buddy! Are you alright?

- I-I need… to… kick… a bin… and… dye… my hair… red."

And Arthur fell on the counter.

* * *

**AN: Some words about the kiss-hello tradition in France. One boy and one girl kiss on the cheeks, two girls kiss on the cheeks, and two boys sometimes also kiss on the cheeks but young Frenchmen of today rather shaking their hands. It looks more masculine, I don't know XD For the number of kisses: it is 2 for almost everywhere in France. Sometimes 4 in Paris but this is rare, they often kiss 2 times as well. It is 3 in some parts of southern France and Brittany. It is only 1 in the Francophone part of Belgium or when you have only ten seconds to say hello to 30 persons lol. We kiss hello only to family and friends or to friends of friends. Never to the boss or colleagues at work. Unless if your colleagues are actually friends of yours. :)**

**For the thing about going from England by car and about the friend Tom, that really happened to an English friend of mine who has been to the US. Someone really asked him if she knew his friend Tom and if it was not too long coming by car. Still, I want to believe that not everybody in America is like that, right? ^^**

**About Arthur at school, I tried to use the English education system, which is slightly different from the French one. As I've never attended school in England, if there is something wrong… I am really sorry :/**

**The special school with nuns has been totally invented by myself :P I have no idea if such schools exist in England (or anywhere! Lol).**

**For the rule in the English college about not touching or standing close to the other pupils, it is true in some colleges in England. For a class exange programm, I was in a college where there was that rule. When we learned it (because we were a whole little class of Frenchies), it made us laugh a lot because this is just inconceivable for us. "But-but, how will we kiss hello (or else^^) if we can't?" DX**

**I have nothing against obese people. Not all Americans are obese. And anyway, the most important thing is to feel good, no matter how we are, right? :D**

**I've actually skipped one class. (But I am not a gifted child! Gifted children are like genius at anything they try, it is really particular) And I can say that even skipping only one class, it is really hard with the other pupils. Jalousy, you know, can hurt. A lot. :/ But I am happy to have become the chick I am today. It would have maybe been different if I haven't skipped any class.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hi people! Stop crying. In spite of Roquefort and bacteria I'm not dead yet (oh shit, she's back!). I'm back with another chapter^^ (actually it would be weird publishing no chapter but only stupid author notes…).**

**Be pleased enjoying it or hating it. You're welcome.**

* * *

Arthur had no idea of where he was. Anyway he fucking didn't care because in his state of half-sleep he was feeling not bad. He was lying on something comfy with sweet sheets. That counterbalanced his headache, with the nice smell of breakfast. He could guess it was morning but it seemed his neurons didn't want to make enough connections to make him move. His body felt so heavy that he thought about sleeping forever. It was good, sleeping forever. He wished he could.

"GOOD MORNING BUDDY! I'VE MADE BREAKFAST! IT WILL GET COLD IF YOU DON'T WAKE UP! IT'S HALF PAST TEN! WAKE UP!"

Arthur immediately jumped out of the most enormous bed he had ever seen and fell on the floor.

Who the hell was the freak who dared SHOUTING like that in the morning?!

He swore, managed to stand on his two sleepy legs and tried to open his eyes.

He didn't remember the room of the hotel where he had left his luggage the previous day looked like this one. The room was simple, decorated with posters of Nirvana and local bands.

He walked out of the room and discovered a quite spacious living room with an open kitchen, and especially the back of a young bare-chested blond guy who was finishing cooking pancakes.

He was tall, and quite muscular, really hot and handsome.

His bad mood vanished. He didn't know or didn't remember who that guy was but he went and sat in front of the table, enjoying the view, for it was not bad at all.

He finished cooking the last pancake, made it jump on the top of the pile and turned towards Arthur.

"Hi, buddy! How d'you feel?"

Arthur's lower jaw literally dropped on the table.

Clear blue eyes, glasses, just-awaken blond hair, carefree kid face.

Goddamn fuck! The kid from the bar! What was he doing here? Why was he here? Why was he here WITH HIM?

Alfred –and Arthur was surprised he had remembered his name- smiled, put the plate on the table with orange juice and coffee, and sat in front of him. Had he been giving him that kind of smile the evening before? Arthur was not sure. But there was something in that smile, like if his innocent kid face was hiding something wicked. Wicked and so damn attractive. His bare chest was damn fucking hot too. It's that kind of chest one would have dreamed to snuggle up against it, run one's hands on it, and do various other things.

Arthur's cheeks gradually turned into pink colors. He had still not made a sound.

"Coffee, orange juice, pancakes. You okay?"

Oh, his wide, questioning eyes. Fucking, pure, innocence. Why the fuck he had to look at him with those eyes?

"C-coffee… I-I don't like coffee."

What the hell was happening to him, for fuck's sake? Arthur wanted to slap himself for stammering in front of a nineteen-year-old kid.

"Tea?"

Arthur frowned. He was pretty sure that Alfred was making fun of him. Yes, he was English, he was a punk, and he liked TEA. Is that FUNNY? Fucking smile. If Arthur had known Alfred better he would have threatened him to overturn the table if he was still smiling at him like an idiot.

"Please."

Alfred went to prepare tea, and Arthur could shamelessly appreciate the view once again, like an old pervert watching young children playing in a park. Anyway that damn hot brat had to pay for his wicked smile.

Alfred's jeans were neither too large nor too small for him, fitting perfectly. Arthur could see the beginning of his boxer shorts' elastic for he had no belt. His butt was well hugged, each movement appealing. That firm and muscular looking butt, Arthur longed to slide his hands inside his jeans to touch it, to feel it, to knead it like pizza dough. He knew a certain person who would have not hesitated, but somewhere in his soul he was too good-mannered to do that. Dammit! How a punk can be good-mannered? Arthur didn't want to philosophize. Being alone with such a guy was kind of… exciting.

Just before Alfred turned and went back with the tea, Arthur hurried to put his two hands on the table and look impassible.

Alfred grinned while handing him the mug and Arthur couldn't guess if his damn grin was natural or if he really was aware of the effect he could have on him.

"Thank you." Arthur mumbled.

"You're welcome!"

Arthur took a sip of tea in silence and a bite of a pancake covered with strawberry jam. Fucking long time he had not eaten pancakes. And those ones were ones of the best he had ever eaten, but actually he was not really hungry. He was distracted by Alfred.

The Yank was eating, eating his pancakes, so quick, so intense, like if he had starved for days. How can a human being eat so much stuff within such a short time? Arthur was impressed.

When Alfred was eating like that, he just looked like a five-year-old kid. He seemed to have so much pleasure innocently eating those pancakes, and that looked so cute. Arthur was melting like butter on his chair.

"Don't like it?"

Holy fuck! Arthur nearly had a heart attack when he noticed Alfred was staring at him and asking him a question.

"Y-yeah!"

And Arthur quickly pushed the rest of his first pancake into his mouth. That obliged him to swell his cheeks like a hamster, but Alfred seemed happy he ate anyway. That is when Arthur noticed there were no pancakes left. Alfred had eaten them all.

"You were dead drunk last night!"

Alfred smiled, looking at him with stars dancing in his eyes.

Drunk? Last night? Probably.

The weird thing is that Arthur was more used to those words when said with a reproaching tone. Here it sounded like if getting oneself drunk was the aim of life on Earth.

"You had fallen on the counter so I brought you home for the night."

It was Arthur's time to smile.

"Did mummy agree you allowed a drunk Brit with blue hair and piercings sleeping here?"

Arthur could have added "gay" but he still didn't want Alfred to know everything about his life.

Alfred looked slightly disappointed.

"I live alone!" He pouted.

Arthur grabbed his glass of orange juice. One point for the Yank, zero for him. Okay, baby, that's fine, don't look at me with those eyes...

"And besides, you didn't stop kicking me with your feet while sleeping! You gave me a tough time!"

Arthur gasped. Fortunately, just in time before taking a gulp of orange juice.

"What?! Do you mean we slept in the same bed?!"

Arthur's face was turning into bright red, which looked not so bad with blue hair.

The hottest guy in San Francisco was bare-chested in front of him, they had slept in the same bed all night, and he, Arthur Kirkland was SLEEPING for he was DRUNK. How DAMN frustrating! He REALLY should stop drinking someday.

"Yup. I put you on the bed, took off your t-shirt and let you sleep until breakfast."

Oh dammit. That was too much for Arthur. Some stiffness rising up in his pants at the thought of Alfred undressing him and sleeping close to him told him it was better to fuck off before he could no more handle the pressure emotionally or could no more walk outside.

"I'm sorry, Alfred, I really have to go." He said hurriedly while heading for the front door.

"Thank you for all. Really. Have a nice day. Goodbye!" He opened the door and half-disappeared behind it.

Alfred seemed as sad as if he had just been told he would be punished for not having been a good boy.

"Leaving so soon! Well, it was nice to meet you! See you 'round! Oh, and, by the way! I left you my number in your pocket! Feel free to call me so we can meet again!"

Oh, his enthusiasm, that was so cute. Arthur really had to leave.

"Bye!"

Arthur slammed the door and hurried to get in the street. Arthur needed fresh air.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hi, that's me again :) Thank you so much for your comments, I love them and they make me want to continue writing^^ I'm sorry that chapter is totally boring, but I think the next one will be more… interesting. Or not. I am actually facing two options for next chapter and that's why I took my time for this one. **

* * *

Arthur let the soft solar beams caress his face and put on his sunglasses. For once, sunglasses were really useful to him.

The warm weather and light made him forget everything and he felt like reviving for his headache had vanished.

He walked aimlessly in the street for a while, thinking of absolutely nothing, until…

"Oh, FUCK!" He exclaimed, not even giving a glance at people around glaring at him.

He had just remembered he had to change the color of his hair and rushed to the first hairdresser he found.

The place looked normal, like any hairdresser's place. A man with too bleached hair and too tanned skin –and maybe too gay indeed- applied the bleaching solution on his head and left him alone. He kept thinking of nothing, except of his scalp that was getting scratchy. Poor hair! Arthur wondered if he would leave with any this time.

He was surprised after the rinse when he saw that he had still all his hair on his head and that slightly greenish blond looked not bad at all. After all, the first time he dyed his hair red it turned into pink and the last it turned into bright orange. No, no red hair. Greenish blond is great. He had never tried before.

He stood up, put the money on the counter and left before the hairdresser had time to yell.

Arthur put back on his sunglasses. Good! Now he could see the world in a new way… or at least with a new hair color.

Arthur's belly suddenly started to protest. He was actually really hungry. So hungry that he wondered when was the last time he really ate.

He bought some cookies and while eating he recollected about what happened this morning with mister Sexy Pancake –or little Alfred-. He put his hand into his pocket and found a piece of paper with those words 'Call me if stoned again!' followed with an overdose of useless happy encouraging smileys and a cell phone number. Alfred had also written on the other side of the paper 'You punk but cute while sleeping! '8D '

Arthur was totally taken by surprise. He was a punk, hanging around most of the time drunk, with torn clothes, new greenish blond spiky hair, and thirteen piercings (five on each ear, one on the lower lip, one on the tongue and one on his left nipple); and that normal kid, virgin of any vice and any drop of alcohol, found him CUTE.

First Arthur blushed for he was working his imagination on that night shared with him, but soon felt like insulted. He was a PUNK. And not CUTE. Why? Because PUNKS are not CUTE. CUTE stuff are stupid and hypocritical, just like that Alfred. He was too warm, kind and welcome. Such gratuitous kindness was weird and distrustful.

Disgust for Alfred grew up in Arthur's heart. And swearing they would never meet again, he tore up the paper to pieces and let them fall around him in the street.

What a pleasure for Arthur to destroy all that attached him to Alfred! No more Alfred! That brat had vanished for ever from his life!

Arthur's mood then totally agreed with the weather. So much that he didn't even notice he almost hit someone while performing some victory dance among the poor pieces of Alfred's number.

Arthur was high and he let his feet bring him on a beach. He removed his heavy shoes and enjoyed the feeling of the warm sand under his feet and the fresh salty air. No matter where in the world, Arthur had always loved the sea. His souvenirs brought him back to Brighton, to his grandmother's. She was one of the rare persons Arthur really loved. Now he could imagine she was probably playing bridge with her friends, with her favorite flowered hat and a cup of tea, in front of another sea.

Arthur now felt nostalgic and in his heart he felt he was already missing his country. How could he have thought that he would feel better elsewhere than at home? _What about getting a flight back to London tomorrow?_

"Hey! Arthur!"

Arthur's whole body turned into ice when he heard the voice. _Oh no. Not Him._

But yes indeed it was _Him_. Alfred soon ran to him with his usual permanent big white smile and a ball in his hands.

"How cool we meet again! Oh I love your new hair color! D'ya like the beach?"

Alfred's eyes were full of excitement, like a puppy.

"Err… yes- "

"Great! Hahaha! Who doesn't like the beach anyway? Hey, you want to join us? We need a fourth player! Because Mei is giving up!"

Arthur then noticed a volleyball net and two guys behind him –Asians, probably Japanese and Chinese- and another Asian/Chinese looking girl all dressed in pink –probably Mei- that was sat near them with ice cream.

"Hey guys! This is Arthur! He's joining!" Alfred told them before Arthur could express his will.

"Arthur! This is Kiku and Yao!"

"Hi…"

Yao expressed his relief and happiness to have found a new player and Kiku bid a timid hello and the game could start.

First he was with Alfred, facing Yao and Kiku but soon they found that the game was not fair because Yao and Kiku were both smaller than Alfred and even himself, though he was not much taller than Yao.

That's why he eventually played in Yao's team, facing Alfred and Kiku.

It had been a real long time Arthur didn't play volleyball and first he thought it would be difficult to handle the game for Alfred was tall and good at it –and Kiku was good too though he was a lot smaller-, but fortunately Yao was fast and he could catch the ball almost all the time.

Yao jumped and smashed violently yelling a powerful "Ayaaah!" and the ball hit the sand in the other camp. Yao and Arthur had just got one point more than Alfred and Kiku.

A light appeared in Alfred's eyes.

"Hold on a sec." He said with a –so sexy- defying glance.

Alfred took off his sweaty t-shirt, discarded it away and prepared his service, with pride and determination of winning in his eyes, all this in the orange light of the late afternoon sun disappearing behind the sea. Arthur was breath taken by this sight. Alfred was just adorable. Arthur let his mind go away for few seconds, until the ball suddenly hit his face with an unbelievable speed and violence. He fell on his back in the sand with the ball in his hands.

"Oh goddamn fuck…" He mumbled while painfully getting up.

"Ayaah! Man! What were you looking at?" Yao asked with desperation.

"You alright?" Alfred asked anxiously.

"I-I'm fine!" Arthur muttered. Alfred's reaction had irritated him. Did he really think he was _fragile_?

He had had enough with that stupid ball game and stupid Alfred caring for him. He was going now to show him who he was!

It was his turn to launch that damn ball. But instead of using his hand to launch the ball, he shot a big rugby-like drop kick into it and the so light volley ball got straight and very far into the sky.

"Hey! That is not in the rules!" Yao protested.

"Where is it?" Alfred cried while staring in vain at the sky.

"I'm afraid we've lost it." Kiku calmly said.

"Oh no!" Alfred and Yao pouted.

"Anyway, boys, it's getting late." Mei –who was actually Yao's cousin- said. "What about eating all together tonight?"

Alfred's sad face literally changed into a cheerful one at the mention of eating.

"You right, Mei! I'm damn hungry! I'm ready to eat fifty hamburgers tonight!"

The game was declared equal and they eventually convinced Alfred to not eat hamburgers and all got to Yao's parents' restaurant. As Arthur had expected, Alfred took eagerly three plates of noodles, but was surprised he had managed to finish his own plate -one thing Arthur had never believed himself capable of.

After having eaten and chatted a lot –actually Alfred, Yao and Mei chatted, Kiku barely said a word and Arthur was not interested enough to join their conversation-, Arthur and Alfred said goodbye with a promise to come and play volleyball –or rugby- again and went away in the night.

"Hahaha! We had so much fun!" Alfred exclaimed so loud that Arthur almost jumped. "Did we?"

"Y-yeah…" Arthur replied, not daring looking up at him in the eye.

"Damn yes! Oh! I loved your super kick! That was just purely awesome!"

Arthur smiled. He was the one who lost their ball and Alfred just called him awesome. He even started to wonder about eventually forgiving him for having insulting him with his paper this morning. After all he was just a kid, and a bit idiot.

"Thank you." Arthur said, his cheeks reddening with pride at the compliment.

"Are you free tomorrow evening?"

Arthur stopped and stared at him in the eye for real. He was about telling him he was not, but seeing in his eyes how he was begging him to say yes, Arthur could resist no more. He now felt how parents could feel about eventually accepting to offer their kid the toy he had been wanting for so long.

"Yeah…?"

"Cool! Come home and bring some booze! Sounds great isn't it?"

Arthur's eyes widened for he was not sure he had understood perfectly well. Maybe he would if Alfred had spoken in understandable proper English.

"I-I beg your pardon?"

"Pleeeease! You're the only one I've ever met who would accept!"

Alfred's blue gaze was so wet, like if he would die tomorrow if Arthur brings nothing to drink. Arthur turned his head to hide his smile and embarrassment from him.

"Oh, I thought such immoral acts were forbidden by law in the United States of America, my dear!" he mocked, "Shame on you, man!"

"C'mon, maaan!" Alfred cried. "You're not letting me down, are you?"

Arthur smirked. He was starting to enjoy torturing poor Alfred. Oh dear why being so cruel? Because he loved to tease, of course. Especially Alfred, and he could not explain why.

"Pleeease, Arthur! Say yesss… please-please-please…" Alfred begged.

Oh, how he was lovely while begging. Arthur could feel the power he had on him, and he liked that. He liked that a lot.

"Weeell…"

"COOL! I WAS SURE YOU WOULD SAY YES!" Alfred jumped and shouted.

"Wait! I didn't say yes yet!" Arthur laughed.

Alfred's joy faded instantly.

"Oooohhh… And… What do you say now?"

"I…"

Seeing Alfred waiting with so much impatience was so much fun. But pleasure couldn't last forever.

"I… I say… yes."

"YEEEAAAAHH!"

Arthur didn't have time to understand what was happening that Alfred was already hugging him tight in his arms. He was nearly suffocating, but didn't know whether it was because of his astonishment mixed with embarrassment or for Alfred's strength, or for both.

"I knew you were a cool guy, Artie!"

"My- name- is- Arthur-" Arthur tried to say but it seemed it didn't reach Alfred's ears.

"See ya tomorrow! 6 pm! At my home! With plenty of booze! Right, Artie?"

"Hmmpff-" Arthur wanted to answer something more understandable but was silenced by Alfred's kiss on the corner of his mouth, and went immediately all red.

"G'night! I can't wait for tomorrow evening!" Alfred said before leaving a red and petrified Arthur behind him.

* * *

**AN: Maybe are you asking yourselves how Arthur's victory dance in the street must look like? (Actually no, you probably don't care at all :P ) Well, have you ever seen Hugh Grant dancing in Love Actually? I was thinking about that while writing that part XD (Yeah, I've said it so now you can hate me for having put old UK pop music in your head for the rest of your day!) You're welcome! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Hi, kids.**

**I must just warn you about that chapter… Yeah, you've guessed it already: _serious stuff_ is starting (And about time too! We were yawning since the beginning of the whole lame story! And besides, she is so late that it is unacceptable!). When I'm writing that kind of stuff I'm normally always censoring a few parts for it can be too hard for sensible people (and because not everyone in the world can bear/enjoy as much dirty stuff as French people can). But this time I feel kind of lazy and don't want to censor anything :p But still, don't be afraid/carried away too much. It will start soft. And there are still limits that can't be crossed because there are things I can't support in any way. (Pedophilia for example. I don't support that, and neither do you I hope :) ). When I'm finished with that story, you'll maybe say I'm making a fuss for nothing, but I got scolded once for another fiction (erased from the website, of course lol).**

**And, one other thing, kids: I am far from encouraging people to act against the law. If you're under 21, I don't encourage you to drink alcohol in the United States of America, and I decline any responsibility if you do. And then, wherever you are and whatever is your age, abusing alcohol has its dangers, so PLEASE be careful with that. Try to learn what are your limits, when it is wise for you to stop. Maybe I am not much older than you or younger (I'm in my early 20s), but I feel obliged to write down that kind of message. That's not just to act uncool and silly and annoying. Even I, I had parties with a lot of drinking in England when I was 16 (yes, one little innocent French girl and the only French soul in the place + alcohol + lots of English guys with big teeth. I let you imagine the disaster :p ), so I think I know what I am talking about. (But I have absolutely no regrets :D )**

**Okay! I stop rambling about my weird international life and start that damn chapter^^**

**And by the way, thank you for your comments ;) And sorry for being sooo laaate! DX**

* * *

Arthur locked himself in his hotel room and fell on the thick and ultra-comfy mattress.

He tried to arrange the mess in his mind but he failed and gave up fighting against fatigue and, even if he would never admit it, he let himself fall into sweet dreams about Alfred and his smile and his eyes and his voice and his hands and other secret stuff.

He awoke in the afternoon. His bed was a mess, as always, but he was more preoccupied by Alfred and the promise he had made him.

_Holly shit! Why must he ALWAYS be stuck to me? Can't he leave me alone once and for all? _He cursed, banging his head against his knees.

But a new idea lit up his mind and made him smile.

_Oh, hell, yes! I will go. I will go with all the drinks needed. And I, I will get him drunk. After all, this is what he wants, isn't it?_

Oh yes. Arthur had never seen a drunken American before. He had seen Francis drunk, and Antonio, and his wife Emma, and of course Gilbert –who was one of the best drinker among them, actually just ranked second behind Emma who had once won the title of _Reine des Bleus_ of some Belgium beer drinking contest, a year before her wedding-, and they were all very funny when drunk, and each one had his proper drunken style.

But little Alfred drunk, Arthur couldn't wait to see that. It must be just epically priceless.

It was already 6pm. Arthur jumped out of the bed, took off all his clothes and took a quick shower. He rubbed his hair in a towel and put on clean clothes meanwhile brushing his teeth: red trousers and a pink t-shirt. Fortunately for the sake of good taste, he changed his mind and took off the pink t-shirt and chose a white shirt instead. Simple, classy, and sexy. What more could anyone want! Alfred, maybe.

He looked at his other self in the mirror and after having messed up a little more his already messy hair, he found that other self particularly hot and ready to conquer America.

_What? America only? The WORLD!_

He went out, bought two bottles of brandy –that would be more than enough, for beginners- and walked to Alfred's house.

Alfred opened the door and literally jumped on Arthur, who miraculously managed not to fall.

"You came! You REALLY came!"

- Yeah- Of course I-

- Come in! I's just finishing eating!"

Alfred eventually let Arthur come in, and indeed he was finishing eating hamburgers.

"Here's one for you!" Alfred handed him one. "I thought you'd be hungry".

"Thank you." Arthur said and took it. Indeed, he had not eaten anything since the night before at his friends' Chinese Restaurant.

Alfred was staring at him with impatience.

"So…?" He started.

"So… What?" Arthur asked between two bites, amused.

"What did you bring?"

"Hey!" Arthur laughed. "Don't you know something called _patience_, kid? Let me finish eating firs-"

"Oh, brandy!" Alfred shouted joyfully while seizing the bottles from the bag.

Arthur swallowed his last bite.

"Definitely, you're impossible." Arthur sighed. "Bring glasses if you still want to act badly. Unless if you changed your mind-"

"No! I want to try!"

Arthur smiled, shrugged, and sat with him on the sofa. He opened a bottle and filled a glass.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked again, with his best wicked smile. "You must know that alcohol is against moral and destroys neurons and-"

"Oh, shut up!" Alfred laughed.

"As you wish!" Arthur concluded before filling the second glass. "Cheers!"

They clinked glasses and started drinking to their new friendship.

"Ughh! My throat burns!" Alfred exclaimed, his face all red for he had drunk his whole glass all at once.

Arthur laughed.

"Why, Alfred, you don't have to drink so fast!" He told him while filling the glasses again. "Take your time to enjoy it."

"Okay! That's fine!" Alfred replied and sipped his brandy more slowly this time.

_Good._ Arthur thought. _Two or three glasses will do. He must start to feel the first effects within a few minutes._

But unlike Arthur was thinking, Alfred was a tough one. He poured himself his fifth glass and seemed as fine as if he was drinking orange juice.

"Not bad!" Alfred said. "That's almost as good as coke!"

_Dammit!_ Arthur thought while he was starting to feel the familiar and funny feeling invading his body. _I would get drunk before that stupid brat! He has drunk half a bottle and he's still fine! A beginner like him should be dead-ill! How can this happen? What kind of super-metabolism does he have?_

"Oh! Look! We've finished the first one!" Alfred shouted triumphantly while holding the empty bottle like if it was the football's World Cup. "Let's drink the second one!"

"Alfred. No."

Alfred stopped playing with the bottles and stared at Arthur with his beautiful blue eyes reflecting incomprehension.

"W-Why?" He asked.

"I think you've had enough." Arthur said, though the affirmation actually rather concerned himself. "I don't want to be responsible of anything if something happens to you while you're drunk."

Alfred first looked disappointed for the funny game had stopped so soon, but he eventually agreed.

"You must be right." He said. "I was starting to feel weird, anyway!"

"Oh dear! Feeling weird? Really?" Arthur was internally laughing so hard that he could hardly finish his last sip.

"Yeah. But I feel good…"

And suddenly Alfred was curled up against Arthur like a baby. How did he get there, Arthur didn't know, but didn't try to push him away.

As –he must confess- alcohol had made him lose a bit of his reserve, he laughed and let his hand play with Alfred's fair soft hair.

"Are you falling asleep, Alfred? I guess it's time for you to go to bed. Should I help you?"

Alfred lifted up his head, very close to Arthur's. He was suddenly less childish than Arthur had known him until then.

"I'm not tired, Arthur."

He took off his glasses and put them on the table before going back to Arthur. He undid the first button of Arthur's shirt and leaned against him, cuddling like if he wanted his face to be inside his shirt.

Arthur was first surprised by his burst of sudden affection but the feelings of Alfred's lips on his skin and his hand caressing his thigh were heightened by alcohol. Pleasure made him surrendering, allowing Alfred to undo another button.

"Alfred… I think you drank too much." Arthur whispered.

Alfred large eyes fixed his for a time Arthur could not determine and then he felt his lips against his.

Soft, cool, wet, sweet brandy-flavored lips, first pressing, then licking his lip piercing, sucking, sucking harder, all this real slow, and then wild. Alfred's knee lifted up and met his crotch. Arthur failed to stop his moan in their kiss and unwillingly allowed Alfred's tongue to come in and play with his other piercing.

Alfred kept on kissing just like if he was not aware of how he was making him feel. But how could he not be aware of Arthur's rock-hard cock against his leg?

Arthur was used to that kind of torture. He even liked it. But then was coming the limit. Especially when tipsy like that. He was losing control. Quick, he grabbed Alfred's belt hard, and furtively slid a hand into his large jeans, silently communicating about what he wanted exactly. And about how he wanted it _now_.

But Alfred, he stopped, took off Arthur's hand from his jeans, moved away and blushed violently, awkwardly.

Arthur panted, blinked, panted. _What's wrong?_ He asked to himself.

"A-Arthur… I think we're going too fast."

Arthur blinked again. Alfred stood up.

"I- I mean…" Alfred went on. "We should first… spend more time together… see? Learn about each other… Have some… _dates_… _Things like that_."

_Yet it is _you _who started that all, 'Oh I'm not tired, Artie', you stupid!_ Arthur tried not to look upset.

He shrugged, with his shirt still undone.

"I thought you liked it." He barely said.

- I- I did like it!" Alfred went crimson again.

- So why stopping?"

Alfred was wondering, looking for his words to answer the question.

"Do you _want_ it?" Arthur asked again, hoping he could bring a little help.

Alfred's eyes were now staring Arthur right in the eye.

"Yes!" He proudly said.

"So it seems there is no reason for not doing it. Sex."

Arthur smirked at Alfred's shocked face, like if he had just said some terribly dirty word that nobody dares to pronounce.

"But… But what about you? Do _you_ want it?" Alfred asked.

Arthur smiled devilishly.

"You have _no_ idea."

And indeed, how little Alfred was making big eyes and big jaw-dropping, Arthur was quite sure about the question of his virginity. But he didn't want to tell him sweet words. That was not his type being romantic and damn hypocrite. He liked to tease so much. That was funnier.

"Still," Arthur grinned. "Alfred, you know that if you somehow don't feel up to it or if you have some… _little mechanical problems_, don't feel afraid to tell me about it."

Anyway, he perfectly knew that Alfred's penis had no problems. He had felt it hot and hard against his hand about two minutes ago. But that was a way to stir him up. And of course, that worked.

Now Alfred's face changed and was full of pride and indignation.

"So that's what you think, Brit."

His voice had changed, turned into something deeper and husky. Arthur smiled widely. _Excitement _was back.

"I'm on to show you."

Then he got rid of his t-shirt, unbuckled his jeans, and discarded it away. He did the same about his underwear.

Alfred was standing there, wearing nothing but his handsomeness and his erection.

Arthur's jaw hit the floor. He had no compass in the eye, but hell, that was quite a big one.

Alfred smiled.

"See now, buddy? _It_ works. Perfectly."

_Definitely, the Yank's not kidding._ Arthur remembered the airport security agent's words and smiled too.

"I can't tell it's not!" He said, laughing.

Alfred moved closer.

"And you know what, Brit?"

Then Alfred bent and put his hands on Arthur's knees. He was so close that their noses were almost touching.

"_You_ have no idea of how you turn me on."

That deep-husky-not-that-innocent voice and that look in the eye were like light years away from little Alfred. Where had the kid gone? Arthur stopped laughing and even felt his cheeks burning with surprise and anticipation.

Alfred kneeled down in front of him, his lustful eyes not leaving Arthur's.

"Just lemme show you."

And he undid the button of Arthur's trousers, unzipped it, and pulled off the trousers and the underwear at the same time before Arthur even noticed.

Arthur gasped. Another surprise.

"Now I'm on to show you how I want you. Inside my mouth."

Alfred bent forward but fortunately Arthur stopped him in time.

"Wait!" He cried.

Alfred grinned.

"Hey, thought you want it, baby."

"I don't mean that." Arthur breathed. "You've forgotten something."

Alfred raised one eyebrow and laughed.

"What?"

Arthur picked up one of the condoms that had fallen from his pocket and opened the foil packet.

"Where you really about to blow a gay punk from London without that?" Arthur tried hard not to laugh.

Alfred stared at the pink condom, hesitated for a few seconds and then sized it and started to unroll it over Arthur's cock.

"Strawberry flavored." Arthur said. "Awful but still better than just plastic."

Alfred did not lose his time. He grabbed Arthur's thighs hard and pressed his lips around the tip of his cock.

He sucked it real slow and hard, just like sucking on a straw.

Arthur bit his lip. Maybe little Alfred was not so inexperienced after all.

His tongue went round and round. Arthur was panting now. Alfred glanced up at him and suddenly pushed down, taking him deep in his throat.

Arthur closed his eyes and tilted his head on the back of the sofa, enjoying the soft and wet torture of Alfred's tongue coming back tickling his cock again.

Alfred slid it out while sucking up his saliva. And he started again, speeding up, licking and sucking wildly. His shame was gone.

Arthur hardly believed Alfred wanted him so much. Was he only aware of the pleasure he was giving him? When Alfred's tongue's tip decided to trace erratic patterns all over his erection, Arthur sighed and his hands grabbed the cushions tight. His senses had lost him in another universe that can't be described with words.

Alfred gave a last and long suck and Arthur came with a soft whine.

* * *

**AN: What's all that shit about condoms here? Listen, kids. I know someone who's the best about explanations: of course, everyone has guessed! That's our favorite Big Brother! :D **

**Francis le Grand Frère : _Bonsoir, les enfants~ Oh, it seems you need someone to explain this kind of things! You're speaking to the right person! Condoms, well. What you call condoms, or what we call 'capotes' have been invented by some Englishman, unlike what those silly English people are trying to make the world believe by using that term- what is it? Have I heard 'French leather'?- . Oh non, non, non! Les capotes sont Anglaises! What did I told you? Never listen to those Anglais. They've always been odious liars. Moi, I'm always right! And when I say that almost everything they do is bad or useless, I'm right, bien sûr! But if there is one thing from them that is useful, it is condoms. No more fear of catching AIDS, hepatitis, or terribly ugly pains like herpes, syphilis –eh oui, you can also catch ulcers in the mouth, and that's the same for AIDS, blowing works too!- and plenty of other infections that can make you infertile. You understand? So when you meet someone special and beautiful and most of all someone you don't know, you always have some of those little English plastic stuff with you, oui? C'est compris, les enfants? _**

**See, Francis could not tell better than me XD I don't want to make people afraid of everything, but somehow I think it's fine to give the example. **

**I've never flirted with Americans, so it took time for me to try to imagine how they are in such moments (I restarted the biggest part of the chapter 3 or 4 times xD ). I lived in the US (Chicago ;D ) for two years and half but I was 20 months when I went to the US and 4 years old when I went back to France. **

**About Englishmen… Well, yes, I do have plenty of anecdotes to tell and they're all funny and interesting. But as I think I've already made enough provocation here, I'll not start to talk too much for I can talk about it for hours.**

**When friends of mine (French) say "English guys are uptight, all gay, and can't kiss", I give myself the right to laugh hard like a witch because I know what the truth is. Englishmen, yes they are hot and the greatest perverts I've ever met (and still, people say Frenchmen are dirty? WTF! –Actually, even if they are all men anyway, that's not exactly the same dirtiness and not the same mechanisms, so we can't compare-). But the ghosts of Jeanne d'Arc and Napoléon can curse me in hell forever. I don't have any regrets (And I'm pretty sure I am not the only one concerned…). And besides, that's funny when you watch Hetalia and feel like you've been filmed lol (sure, it would have been funny to take pictures of my face while watching. Definitely, Japanese people and their cameras are everywhere XD).**

**And now I stop showing off NOW before that story turns into "The amazing adventures of Pouceline" ;)**

**Wow. The world is full of bizarre people 8D (Don't freak out, right? ^^ )**

**Now, if anyone feels like motivated to go to England to "check" my affirmations, just one thing: there's a lot of competition with English girls. That is not so easy :) And I was not in London. I was somewhere where French and other strangers are less common (and that can make natives think you're special :) ). And at those times my English was much worse than today: I could barely make a correct sentence! But my English friends who were with me, they were keeping on saying I was adorable and wanted me to keep some French words when speaking (like "bonjour", "merci", "oui", "non", "bisous", "amour", and other words they think cute) or to talk entirely in French. At least they didn't ask me to wear a striped t-shirt and a beret or dressed me like the girls of the Moulin Rouge, they were kind lol.**

**About the Belgian beer contests: in Belgium (at least the French-speaking part) and some places in the North of France, each year, contests are organized. The one who drinks beer the fastest and the most wins the title of "_Roi/Reine des Bleus" _(literally "The King/Queen of the Blues" -the color, not the music-). I don't know if there are the same kind of contests in the Flemish part.**

**Now I'd like some SM stuff in there (not too hard, I promise!). Not for the next chapter, but for the few ones that will come after. That story won't be long anyway, I think I'll make 4 other chapters and that's all. I just hope you won't wait for months again! Sorry again by the way!**


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